


Learning How To Wait

by luxover



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-11
Updated: 2012-01-11
Packaged: 2017-10-29 08:30:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/317830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luxover/pseuds/luxover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt: Cristiano Ronaldo has never been known to be a patient man, but he learns to wait for Kaká.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Learning How To Wait

It's different this time for Cristiano because there's so much that he wants to do to Kaká, so much that he wants to teach Kaká, and he's never really felt like that before. He wants to hold Kaká's hips down, blow him until he's shaking and begging to come, and he wants to leave bite marks on the inside of Kaká's thighs and on the soft skin underneath his jaw. He wants to kiss Kaká with too much tongue and too much teeth, and with no tongue and no teeth at all, and he wants to lace his fingers with Kaká's, swipe his thumb over the back of Kaká's hand as they sit on the couch and watch football.

But then:

"I'm not—I can't," Kaká says. "Not yet."

"That's okay," Cristiano says. "I'll wait."

It's not easy for him; he's not used to waiting for anything or for anyone, and for Kaká to look at him the way he does when they score, and for Kaká to look at him the way he does when he walks to the shower, and for Kaká to look at him any way at all—Cristiano is trying, he is trying so hard to be patient, and even though Kaká is the only one he really wants, he sometimes finds himself thinking of how easy it would be to be with other people.

But then:

"You can take it back," Kaká says. "If there's someone else and you want to. I'll understand."

"There's no one," Cristiano says. "And I don't want to."

At practice, they help each other stretch, their hands splayed out across each other's skin, their fingertips digging into muscle, and Kaká's face is so close to his in those moments, close enough to touch, and Cristiano can do nothing but file the memory away for later, for when he is by himself and it is not Kaká's hands on his skin but his own. It does nothing but make him feel alone, and sometimes he thinks that maybe he is.

But then:

"I look at you," Kaká says, "and sometimes I think that God made you just for me."

"I'd be okay with that," Cristiano says, "because there's nothing about you that I don't like."

And they talk about it sometimes, when Kaká comes over to play FIFA and they can focus on the screen and pretend that it's not awkward. They sit shoulder to shoulder on the couch and Cristiano thinks a lot of things that he doesn't put voice to, things about himself and about Kaká and about the _them_ that doesn't exist yet. He thinks that maybe Kaká has changed his mind, and Cristiano wouldn't blame him, wouldn't fault him for anything.

But then:

"What if it turns out that I'm not what you want?" Kaká asks. "What do we do then?"

"I haven't thought about it," Cristiano says. "It's not going to happen."

That's the problem, though; nothing happens for so long that Cristiano almost forgets that he is waiting for something and starts to just accept everything as how it will always be. Kaká will always be there to look at but never there to touch, and Cristiano should stop expecting anything more. Kaká will always belong in his house but never belong to him, and Cristiano starts to think that maybe he can learn to be okay with that.

But then:

"If I said that I wanted you and that I wanted to be with you," Kaká asks, "would I be too late?"

"Kaká," Cristiano says, "that's what I've been waiting for."

He's never been with anyone like Kaká before, never been with someone who makes him feel like Kaká does or who undresses him as slowly as Kaká does or who uses the word _love_ like Kaká does, repeatedly and insistently and unabashedly. Kaká spends hours tracing the flat of his tongue over Cristiano's every curve, the dips and planes of his muscles, and although Cristiano thought it would be the other way around, he is the one left shaking and gasping for air, pulling at Kaká's hair and running his blunt nails across the smooth expanse of Kaká's back. He doesn't mind, likes Kaká any way he can get him, and afterwards they lie together in a tangled mess of limbs. He thinks Kaká falls asleep.

But then:

"I didn't think you'd wait," Kaká says. "But I'm glad you did."

"I'm a very patient man," Cristiano says. "Hey, quit laughing, I am."


End file.
